I want to start my message to you with a confession: I didn’t really love school when I was a kid.

Growing up in the middle of nowhere in rural Ohio in the *GASP* 70’s and 80’s, I was the bright, talkative kid who was often in trouble. On the surface, I got by with few problems. I was smart enough to figure out the system and pass my classes without anyone looking too closely. No one ever put a label on me, at least not a neurodiversity label. In some ways, that was a gift. It meant no one ever lowered their expectations for me, and I never learned to lower them for myself.

But what no one saw was that my class clown behavior was designed to mask my fear that no one liked me. Some classes were incredibly easy – I could almost not show up and get an A, but then there was math.  I never really got what was going on there despite the fact that I should have, at least I thought I should have.  My classmates seemed to get it.  I didn’t understand why everyone else could make sense of this.

I wasn’t the only “unboxed thinker” in my family, though. That title belonged to my older sister, Beth. She was my original partner in crime, the one who introduced me to music, art, fashion, and the idea that there was a whole universe vibrating just beyond what our eyes can see. Beth was chosen for my family, adopted as an infant, and from the moment I arrived, she made my world bigger and brighter.

Beth’s brilliant, creative mind also wrestled with profound challenges that our world often fails to understand. She battled mental illness, a struggle that ultimately took her from us five years ago. Her passing left an impossible void, but it also ignited a fire in me. It clarified my purpose in a way nothing else ever could.

My entire professional life has been a search for answers—for myself, and for the kids I taught. That search took me from teaching in impoverished public schools to leading independent schools designed for children with learning differences. It brought me into the lives of families from every imaginable background, from a child experiencing homelessness to the grandchild of the current President of the United States, learning differences know no boundaries. These experiences taught me a profound truth: it doesn’t matter who you are or what you believe. The fierce, unwavering love a parent feels for their struggling child is universal. The need for a place of understanding and true expertise transcends all social and political divides.

After losing Beth, this truth became the bedrock of my mission. I had to build the place that would have celebrated a mind like hers—the place I so desperately needed as a child.

That is why I founded Conduit. It is the culmination of my journey, and in her honor, I also established The Elizabeth Ann Foundation for Unboxed Thinkers to ensure that financial barriers never stand in the way of a child receiving the education they deserve.

This is my promise, born from my own story and fueled by the memory of my sister. Conduit is my tribute to Beth’s beautiful, unboxed spirit and my commitment to every student who learns differently. I am here to find what is unique in each child and give them the tools to build upon their strengths, turning their challenges into triumphs. My mission is to ensure no child ever has to hide their learning needs or feel like they are stuck in the slow lane ever again.